


Run Away With Me

by adamwhatareyouevendoing



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, here i am fixing something that hasn't even happened yet, historical accuracy be damned, i need them to be happy forever like they were this episode, the title speaks for itself, well it has in history but shh everything's gonna be fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 05:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamwhatareyouevendoing/pseuds/adamwhatareyouevendoing
Summary: “Run away with me.”Drummond feels his heart race beneath Alfred’s lips. The words are softly spoken, but he does not doubt the feeling behind them.It’s madness. It’s all he wants.





	Run Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and enjoyed 'Be Here, With Me' - this is for you all!
> 
> Set after 2x05, which has to be the greatest thing I have ever witnessed with my own two eyes. Turns out this is the result of listening to a lot of Carly Rae Jepsen and being unable to think of anything but these two <3

“I don’t want to leave you,” Drummond murmurs, staring up at the ceiling of Alfred’s chamber from the four poster bed. His wedding day is drawing ever closer, and he doesn’t know when they can next be together like this. He’s not sure he could bear it if this was the last time.  
  
Alfred hums quietly in agreement, his head pillowed on Drummond’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave either.”  
  
He tightens his arm around Alfred in response, drawing their bodies closer. Being here, with him, like this—it is a gift he never thought he would receive. Thank goodness the trip to France had made them both realise the happiness to be found in each other’s company was too precious to lose.

“I love you,” he whispers, and feels Alfred’s smile against the curve of his neck. It’s not the first time he’s spoken the words, but it feels more important this time, somehow.  
  
Alfred tilts his head down to press a soft kiss against Drummond’s chest, above his heart, lips lingering thoughtfully on his skin.

“Run away with me.”  
  
Drummond feels his heart race beneath Alfred’s lips. The words are softly spoken, but he does not doubt the feeling behind them.

It’s madness. It’s all he wants.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay?” Alfred echoes in disbelief, as though he hasn’t allowed himself to hope that Drummond might agree. “Really?”  
  
“Yes,” he replies, with certainty. He has never been surer of anything. “I take it you’ve got a plan?” He knows Alfred would not have made the suggestion if he didn’t believe they could accomplish it. To fail would break both their hearts.  
  
Alfred raises himself on his elbow so he can see Drummond’s face. His own expression is slightly bashful. “I do, actually.”  
  
Drummond shifts so they are facing each other across the bed. If they are serious about this, it has to be done right. He nods. “I’m listening.”

  
  
-

  
  
Drummond returns to his own rooms as Alfred instructs, to put his affairs in order. There is not much to be done. A letter to Robert Peel, explaining that he will no longer be in his employment. A letter to the Marquess of Lothian, to end his engagement to his daughter. A letter to his family, to apologise.

Then he packs his few belongings into a suitcase, and waits.

  
  
-

  
  
Alfred’s task is a similar one, though he addresses his first letter to the Queen of England. He can only hope she understands. From what he knows of the Queen, he thinks she will. She is a romantic at heart. The letter will tell her that he has met someone, that he loves someone, and that they must be together.  
  
If anyone at the Palace pieces together the fact that the Queen’s Chief Equerry and the Prime Minister’s Private Secretary have disappeared on the same night—leaving behind similar letters as their only explanation—and understands the reason why, his hope is that it will be kept secret to avoid a scandal.  
  
It doesn’t matter either way. They will be long gone before anyone discovers the truth.  
  
There is only one exception to that fact. Alfred’s next step is to visit Emma Portman.  
  
He knocks softly at her door, and she opens it almost immediately. There is no surprise on her face when she sees it is Alfred standing on the other side. She has always been perceptive.  
  
“I need your help,” he says, and Emma nods in understanding. They have both been privy to enough secrets at the Palace that one more will not upset the balance.  
  
Ten minutes later, Alfred climbs into Emma’s unmarked carriage.  
  
“Good luck,” she whispers, pressing his hand. “Take care.”  
  
“Thank you,” Alfred says, kissing the backs of her fingers. “I will always be grateful to you for this.”  
  
The driver will take him first to Drummond’s rooms, then on to the docks. He will be discreet, Alfred knows. The man has driven the Queen to Brocket Hall and not said a word; he can be trusted.

  
  
-

  
  
At Alfred’s instruction, the carriage is pulled to a halt around the corner from Drummond’s rooms. Alfred himself hurries out, as the driver waits unquestioningly.  
  
He pulls the rim of his hat further down over his forehead as he rushes down the street, hoping to shield his eyes in case anyone happens to be looking out of their window. It is a slim chance, considering the lateness of the hour, but he knows he cannot be too careful.  
  
Nerves seize at his stomach as he knocks on Drummond’s door as quietly as he can. It is a wild and senseless thought, but he cannot guarantee that Drummond hasn’t decided against the plan. What if he returned here and realised he couldn’t go through with it? Fear claws at his throat for a painful minute.  
  
But then Drummond opens the door, dressed in the plainest clothing he owns, clutching at a suitcase that holds all the worldly goods he cares to bring with him. He doesn’t need much—his whole world is stood right in front of him.  
  
“Ready?” Drummond asks, his eyebrows quirking up in question. It is an expression that Alfred adores.  
  
“Ready,” he smiles, voice unwavering.

  
  
-

  
  
The carriage takes them onwards, to the coast.  
  
Drummond slides his hand into Alfred’s as their long journey gets underway, squeezing tightly in the darkness. It is the only comfort they can permit themselves at the moment, no matter how much Alfred might wish to take him in his arms in reassurance.

They do not say much, as if afraid to break the spell—afraid that somehow this might cease to be real if they voice it aloud. The occasional glance that passes between them, and the gentle pressure of their fingers, is enough to pass the hours.  
  
At last, they arrive.  
  
They leave the warmth of the carriage, heading into the chilly night, clutching their suitcases in desperate hands. Alfred gives the driver a small nod of thanks, the understanding implicit between them, before it pulls away and heads once more into the night.

It is a few hours yet till dawn, when the first boat arrives. They find a bench outside the ticket office, sitting with their backs against the cold stone as they watch the sun slowly rise.

Drummond smiles across at him, his face radiant in the soft light.  
  
Every moment that they do not hear hoof beats behind them is a moment they relax further.

  
  
-

  
  
The early morning crossing is quiet, and they are able to stand on deck together, undisturbed. They watch as England gets further away, slowly dwindling to a thin grey line on the horizon. Then it is gone altogether.  
  
Alfred breathes a sigh of relief.  
  
Drummond turns to look at him. “We did it.” His voice is hushed. A quick look around the deck confirms that they are alone. He presses Alfred’s hand, where it rests on the railing between them.

“We did,” Alfred murmurs, rubbing his thumb slowly across the soft skin of Drummond’s palm. He wishes he could kiss him.

  
  
-

  
  
They settle in Normandy, in a small village. It is far enough away from the château d’Eu that they will not be recognised from their official visit, but close enough that the gossip from court still reaches them. Some of that gossip is news from England.  
  
They do not hear that the Queen’s Chief Equerry has run away with the Prime Minister’s Private Secretary. It seems that they truly have made it. They are safe.

Their house is small, but comfortable. Their neighbours are friendly and not too inquisitive. Alfred helps Drummond to improve his French. It is a quiet life, but they are glad of it when it means they are together.

  
  
-

  
  
One day they hear news that there has been an assassination attempt on the Prime Minister, back in England.  
  
Drummond does not want to talk about it, and Alfred does not push him to, but holds him close in bed that night. Drummond, wide awake in the darkness, waits for him to fall asleep, then slips free of his arms and climbs out of bed.  
  
He heads to the kitchen and pours himself a drink, staring out of the window as he sips at it. The liquid sears his throat and he welcomes the burn. From the story they heard, Peel is alive, but his Private Secretary had been mistaken for him, and shot instead. The man died from his injuries. Drummond can almost feel the twinge in his back, as though the bullet is embedded in his own flesh.  
  
After a while he hears soft footfalls against the floor. There is a pause, then Alfred approaches. He says nothing, just wraps his arms around Drummond’s waist, a warm and steady weight against his back. He rests his cheek against Drummond’s shoulder.  
  
Drummond downs the last of his drink and places the glass on the countertop.  
  
“It could have been me,” he says quietly, into the silence.  
  
“I’m glad it wasn’t,” Alfred murmurs, pressing his lips to Drummond’s shoulder blade in a reassuring gesture.  
  
Drummond turns in the circle of his arms, looking down at the man he loves more than anything. Not for the first time he is glad that he gave up his political ambition for a life with him.  
  
“Me too,” he says, allowing himself a small smile, and presses his lips to Alfred’s.

  
  
-

  
  
A couple of years later they hear that the Queen and Prince Albert are to make another journey to France. Alfred makes the timid suggestion that they could join the welcoming party at the docks. Drummond agrees readily enough.  
  
They venture out, caps low on their heads. They hide amongst the thronging crowds at the docks, enough to get a glimpse but careful enough not to be seen.

The Royal couple seem happier than ever, now blessed with four children. It is strange, to see the people they know so well, yet be unable to say anything. They are both quiet as they head home, thinking of the paths their lives might have taken if they hadn’t thrown it all away.  
  
“Do you regret it?” Alfred asks quietly, once the door is closed behind them.  
  
“Never,” Drummond replies, with certainty. He can see that there is no trace of doubt in Alfred’s expression either.  
  
Alfred is quiet for a moment, then a cheeky smile breaks onto his face. “Do you think the Prince will visit the lake again?”  
  
Drummond laughs at the memory, pulling Alfred close. Alfred caresses his neck with a tender hand, reminiscent of his touch from that day.

“Maybe we should go back one day,” he suggests playfully.

“I’d like that,” Alfred smiles, sliding his hand into Drummond’s hair and guiding his head down to kiss him.

They could not have known, back then, that following the Prince into the forest would turn out to be one of the best decisions they ever made, second only to their decision to leave it all behind. A lifetime of happiness together, no matter how yearned for, seemed like a vain dream.

Now it is their joyous reality.

 


End file.
